Song of Hogwarts
by ElvendorkInfinity
Summary: Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley go for a night-time stroll around Hogwarts.


**I started writing this years ago and only came back to it in the last few days. It's the first proper (non-drabble) Harry Potter fic I've written in a while, so I'm out of practise. I've also never written Arthur and Molly much before, even though I love them. So I hope this is okay. As ever, I own nothing and am making no profit from this.**

* * *

"_She gave me such a telling-off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning –"_

* * *

Molly Prewett lay awake listening to the sound of pounding rain on the window, staring blindly into the darkness above her. It was two thirty in the morning and she could hear the other girls breathing slowly and deeply in their sleep, and every so often the soft rustle of bedcovers as one moved into a more comfortable position. She was warm, and comfortable, and the sound of the rain made the Gryffindor girls' dormitory even cosier than it already was.

And yet she couldn't sleep.

Sighing, she rose from her bed and pulled open the door, cringing as it creaked loudly and checking that it had not woken any of the others; only when she was confident that it hadn't did she slip out, pull the door shut as quietly as possible behind her and pad gently down the stairs to the Common Room, her footsteps muffled by her fluffy slippers. She wasn't sure what exactly she planned on doing at this time in the morning in the Common Room on her own, but she just couldn't stand to lie in bed waiting for sleep that refused to come any longer.

She froze when she saw someone already sitting in the armchair closest to the dying embers of the fire, half thinking of turning around and going straight back to her dormitory, though why the sight of Arthur Weasley made her stomach do a funny little somersault and the heat rise into her face she didn't know. She knew it was Arthur, even if she could only see the back of his head; no one else in Gryffindor had hair that vividly red, except her.

'Hello, Molly,' he said, smiling in his endearingly shy way as he twisted in his seat to see her. Molly forced a smile and returned the greeting, hoping that it wasn't too obvious how much her voice was shaking. 'Can't sleep?' he asked as she moved forwards and sat down in the chair beside his.

'No,' Molly replied, shaking her head to emphasise her point and staring into the last glowing cinders of the fire, hating that she felt so nervous and growing hot with embarrassment. No one else made her nervous. Ever.

But then, Arthur Weasley had always been a curiosity, and he had always intrigued her somewhat. He was a pure blood, and very intelligent from what she had seen in classes – not that she paid much attention to him, of course – yet he adored all things muggle; he was utterly fascinated by them. Once, just a few days previously, Molly had seen him helping a third year with her muggle studies homework. It was the only thing he ever really seemed truly passionate about – was it wrong that the sight had caused her the slightest twinge of inexplicable jealousy?

'Do you – I mean – would you...no,' Arthur trailed into silence once more. Molly looked up when he spoke and caught a glimpse of his awkward blue eyes before he looked down again, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

'What's wrong?' she asked, a frown of genuine concern creasing her forehead even as her heart gave an excited little leap.

'Nothing, I...let's go for a walk.' He stood up suddenly and then blushed beetroot when she didn't do the same, 'I'm sorry, I just – never mind.' He turned to leave and Molly jumped to her feet, her mind spinning dizzily as she tried to make sense of his suggestion.

'Arthur – no – I was just – just surprised, that's all. I mean, it's almost three in the morning...'

'I know, I just thought...I thought it would be nice.' He smiled weakly and Molly's heart skipped a beat, suddenly very aware of how stupid she must look, standing in the middle of the common room in her pyjamas with her hair un-brushed and her face pink behind those stupid, _stupid_ freckles...

'O – okay,' she said eventually. At her reply, Arthur's eyes lit up and Molly saw a sort of quiet charm in his uncertain face. As if he thought he would lose his nerve if he didn't do it quickly, Arthur hurried towards the portrait hole and held it open for Molly, who, to her own surprise as much as his, did not object to his help in climbing down. 'It's strange being out here when it's dark,' whispered Molly as Arthur clambered out after her – then tripped over his own feet in his nervousness and landed flat on his face, cracking his glasses.

'Arthur!' Molly exclaimed, jumping forwards and helping him to his feet. He had gone bright red again; she would not have been surprised to be able to feel the heat radiating from his scarlet ears. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, I just – '

'What are you doing up so late?' demanded the Fat Lady, who had woken with a start at the sound of Arthur's fall – the teenagers exchanged a look and grinned, turning and running, suddenly exhilarated with the prospect of the entire, empty school before them, ignoring the portrait's calls and veering around the corner out of sight, then stopping and leaning against the wall breathlessly.

'Oh, Arthur, your glasses are broken!' Automatically, she reached up to take them off him to repair them, but he stepped back, looking terrified.

'No, it's okay, you don't have to – '

'Nonsense!' Molly replied, taking them and tapping them with her wand before handing them back, fixed.

'Thank you,' he muttered. He could have done it himself, of course, but a part of him liked the attention she was giving him. Fiery, wild Molly Prewett – why had she even agreed to come on this walk? Why would she want anything to do with him at all?

'Erm…shall we – I mean – shall we walk, then?' Molly gestured vaguely along the deserted corridor, smiling and then suddenly – for no reason she could think of – struggling not to laugh. For a moment she was worried Arthur would be offended, but then he grinned and held out his hand, which she took. Her face still felt hot with embarrassment and his was still glowing faintly pink, but at the touch they both relaxed somewhat, and the silence was abruptly not uncomfortable at all, but companionable; easy, like they did this all the time.

The whole castle was stretched out around them, dark and silent and seemingly completely uninhabited. It felt like they could have done anything, gone anywhere, and no one would ever know. It was a world they had all to themselves, a world no one else could ever find. It felt like they could have shouted at the tops of their lungs and still gone unnoticed, but they were loath to break the quiet. To do so would have been to break the spell of their utter isolation, their freedom. So they walked, hand in hand, treading carefully on the stone floor and trading half-nervous, half-exhilarated glances every few seconds, constantly resisting the urge to break into a run. The castle…_sang_…in the silence; it thrummed with magic in a way it never did in the daytime, drowned out by the noise and bustle of hundreds of students trampling carelessly through it, never noticing the simple and literal charm of their surroundings.

Molly opened her mouth several times to try and put this feeling into words, but could never find a satisfactory way to phrase it, so she gave up and simply enjoyed it. She was very aware the entire time of Arthur's hand in hers and the sound of his breath beside her.

Finally – it could have been five minutes or an hour or a year later – they reached a window that looked out across the grounds, and they stopped. Molly let go of Arthur's hand to put both of hers on the sill and leant over to peer out into the darkness. The rain had stopped and Molly could smell through the slightly open window the damp grass; a break in the clouds overhead revealed a strip of brilliant stars. Owls swooped past, like dark and graceful ghosts, and the lake glimmered blackly at the edge of her vision. A cool breeze stirred her hair as she gazed out, wide-eyed with wonder; how had she never appreciated the sheer beauty of the school before now?

'It's so…' she breathed softly, and then stopped, unable to find the words.

'Yeah,' Arthur replied just as quietly from behind her, 'I know.' He seemed to understand without having to be told, and Molly felt a rush of affection so strong she had to grip the window ledge for fear she would fall over.

After several more, deep, cleansing breaths of the fresh night air, Molly turned around, and saw her own expression of adoration and wonder mirrored on Arthur's face – except he couldn't see through the window from where he was standing. She was in the way. He was looking at _her_.

'It's like we're the only people in the world,' Molly whispered, transfixed by Arthur's eyes. Blue. They were so very blue, even in the darkness. This moment, she knew, she would never forget. It was not just that tingling in her spine, that felt so new and different and _oh_ she couldn't begin to describe it – it was not just the wonderful, glorious disbelief that anyone would look at her the way Arthur was looking at her right then. It was not just the silence and _size_ of the castle – _their_ castle – as though hovering in frozen time waiting just for them – or the night smells and rain smells and distant hoots and the soft breeze –

It was all of it. Everything Molly could feel at that moment, she knew she would remember until her dying day, all perfectly crafted as though on purpose, painted together to create this one shining second that would change everything.

For what felt like a long time, neither of them moved. Not because they were nervous – not anymore, not of each other anyway – but just because they were savouring this feeling that neither of them could name, too many feelings all pressed together to have a simple label, surely, and too perfect to risk ruining by acting too soon. Simply, neither of them _wanted_ to move. They would have been quite happy, at that moment, never to move again.

Like all perfect moments, though, it did not last nearly as long as their memories would tell them in years to come.

Faintly, they heard footsteps.

The castle was not so deserted after all.

Arthur was the first to react. He grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her away from the sound, still not speaking and not daring to run lest their own footsteps gave them away. They hurried down the corridor together, grinning, excited and terrified all at once, their minds whirling with what had just happened, what might be about to happen, only half focused on the danger of being caught, neither really caring if they did because it would be _worth it_, it would be so, so worth it –

As they passed a large suit of armour to their left Arthur suddenly veered to the side and slipped behind it, tugging Molly with him so they were cramped together in the small space between wall and suit, breathing deeply but as quietly as they were able. Both of them were smothering laughs and not at all sure what was funny, shaking with the effort and trying desperately not to knock the suit.

After several moments their breathing evened out and they listened intently for the sound of anyone approaching their hiding space. The footsteps seemed to have died away.

'Do you think they've gone?' Molly whispered, realising as she did that she had barely spoken since leaving the Common Room, despite feeling like she had bared her soul to the boy beside her. It was an odd feeling, to think that she might have communicated so deeply without ever uttering a word, but not an unpleasant one.

'I'm not sure,' Arthur tried to lean out and have a look, but could barely move without risking giving them away with some accidental sound. He almost apologised for getting Molly into this trouble, but stopped himself. He would not apologise for this – and in any case he knew enough of Molly Prewett to realise that if he ever presumed to hold responsibility for any of her actions, she would waste no time making him perfectly aware that she was fully capable of making her _own_ decisions, thank you very much, and – and –

And he was pressed against her in a space too small to even breath properly, and every time his chest expanded it brushed her arm, and she was twisting to face him, and her wide-eyed look of innocent wonder from before had been replaced by the most mischievous grin he had ever seen –

And there were footsteps again, he could hear them, but –

But they had barely even _spoken_ since leaving the Common Room, he didn't really know her, he didn't –

She didn't really know _him_, anyway, he had –

Not exactly watched her but he had been _aware_ –

And he was aware now –

So was she –

He was aware of her leaning up on tip-toes, and her grin fading. He was aware of her expression melting into one so careful, so serious, that he realised he would never be able to keep up with her moods if he spent the rest of his life trying. He was aware that he very much wanted to spend the rest of his life trying.

He was aware of her lips, and her warmth. He was aware of responding, and moving his hands up to run them through her hair because it always looked so soft and it smelled so sweet – and his fingers got caught.

'_Ow_!' she exclaimed, and he pulled away sharply – stupid, _stupid_, it was the middle of the night, she hadn't brushed it, of course it would be tangled, he was _such_ an _idiot_ – he blushed furiously, hot with shame and humiliation totally out of proportion to what had happened.

'I'm sorry!' he gasped, 'I'm so sorry, I –'

She was laughing.

She was _laughing_.

She didn't hate him. Her mirth should have made him all the more embarrassed but somehow…it didn't. It seemed absurd, suddenly, that he'd thought she would be angry, and in his relief he started to giggle, too, silently at first and then louder, dangerously loud, gasping and shaking his head and so very glad, for the first time ever, that he was so clumsy. Molly was breathless now, shaking her head the ridiculousness of their situation, holding her sides, stumbling –

Her foot knocked the suit of armour.

The _clang_ echoed like a gunshot through the empty corridors.

The footsteps were getting faster, and _closer_.

Still giggling, they burst from behind the suit, no longer trying to conceal themselves, and ran, slipping and stumbling, away.

Apollyon Pringle's shouts followed them, but they turned swiftly down one corridor and then another, through a tapestry that concealed a door and up a moving flight of stairs, laughing loudly now and glorying in their misdemeanour, which was so exciting and new and _so – very – worth it_.

Pringle was getting closer though, despite their evasive manoeuvres – he knew more of the castle than anyone else (except perhaps Molly's brothers) and must have taken advantage of at least one shortcut to reach them so soon.

'We need – to split – up –' Arthur gasped as they turned another corner,

'But –'

'He can't – catch – both of us –'

They came to end of a corridor, a junction where it split into two others, and Arthur skidded to a halt a moment before Molly, so that she crashed into him and he had to grab her arms to stop her falling. He grinned. He kissed her – fierce and clumsy and dizzying. 'I'll see you in the morning,' he said, winking as he pushed her in one direction and started to jog in the other, 'if I don't survive, make sure my noble sacrifice sounds heroic!'

Then he sped away from her, waving, and Molly dithered, but –

'_GO!_'

She went. She fled through the castle with his words ringing in her ears, his face swimming before her eyes, the ghost of his lips still clinging to hers. By the time she made it back to the portrait hole she was out of breath, red in the face from exertion, grinning, elated, and determined to fix every detail of this night in her memory forever.

The Fat Lady was not pleased with her.

She memorised the lecture, so she could tell Arthur.

Arthur was caught by Pringle.

Later, she would memorise his scars, too.

* * *

"_Your father and I had been for a night-time stroll," she said. "He got caught by Apollyon Pringle – he was the caretaker in those days – your father's still got the marks."_


End file.
